


no church in the wild

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Series: season 10 codas [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (none actually happens in the fic), Alcohol, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e16 Paint It Black, M/M, Mark of Cain, Self-Hatred, mentions of possible self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m losing it. I’m losing. And I...” He lets out another laugh, resists the urge to cry or scream, “Shit, man, I’m terrified. I just... I went to confession today. It was for a case but it - I was - I was honest. I think.” </p><p>The anger starts to dissipate just a little, just enough to make it easier to think in another color for a moment.</p><p>“I’m not ready to die. I don’t want to. I’ve got... I’ve got things. I guess... maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Shit, I know I’m kidding myself with this. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror sometimes. I’m surprised every time I see my fucking face and I just...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	no church in the wild

**Author's Note:**

> whoop it's a coda!! also this is like dark bc of the promo for next week. :( this would explain tho why cas is like WHERE IS DEAN??? when sam walks up. title from the jay-z/kanye song because, well... I feel like it's oddly fitting for MoC era dean? who knows?!

“If either one of us  
is bound to get  
hurt from this,  
I’ll do everything  
in my power to  
make sure that it  
won’t be you.” 

— [Connotativewords](http://connotativewords.tumblr.com/) | jl |  _Sacrifice_

 

* * *

 

Dean hates feeling vulnerable. He’s been hurt so many times, by people he was supposed to be able to trust, so he hides. He puts up walls. He deflects with a joke, masks a serious confession with a flippant comment. He pretends it’s fine.

So when he admits to the priest in that confession that he’s not ready to die and there’s feelings, people, things he wants to experience differently - he feels off balance for the rest of the day. 

Sometimes he has to lie to himself. Sometimes he can’t let himself think about how scared he is or how depressed or anxious he feels most of the time. Because if he doesn’t pretend that it’s fine or if he doesn’t push down his feelings, and he admits it to himself, that makes it real.

He’s not ready to die. He wants to fall in love. He wants a family.

And that scares the shit out of him.

There’s no point in lying and saying that this is the first time Dean’s ever wanted that. When he was a kid, before Sonny’s, he had this idea in his head - he’d hunt for a few years. He’d meet somebody who’d blow him out of the water, right? And they’d hunt together for a while, maybe get married, hopefully have some kids, and eventually they’d retire. 

He’d get a real job with a paycheck and benefits and they’d have a house. Their kids wouldn’t have to sleep with shotguns under their pillows.

They wouldn’t have to learn how to cook on a stove when they were seven.

Cassie was the first person who made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could actually have that. She was the first person who made him feel like he could do things like tell his dad to fuck off. 

Lisa was different. 

Dean got a taste of that life, the alleged apple pie life, and it wasn’t... he loved Lisa. He loved Ben. He would die for them tomorrow if they needed protecting. 

But he wasn’t  _in love_  with Lisa, not in the way she deserved. She deserved somebody who could devote their life to her and build a real, grown up, happy suburban life with her, and he just - he couldn’t do it. He would’ve given anything to be able to do it but it wasn’t right. 

There’s been other people - one night stands, a fling on a job - that he could see himself settling down with and being happy.

They’re not the one that he wants that with, though.

 

* * *

 

He lets Sam drive back to the bunker when the case is over. He feels shitty, he can’t stop coughing, and the Mark is humming as loud as ever. 

Sometimes it feels like it is another being in the car with them.

He closes his eyes at some point, not willing to try and listen to any more of Sam’s hollow promises. It’s sweet, in its own way, but - it’s not real. It’s not... Sam’s not saying it because he believes it, not really. 

He’s scared. He’s scared of Dean.

There’s a part of him that wants to be mad, a part of him that the Mark has the most control over, but he can’t be. He’s scared of himself too. 

When they get to the bunker, he jumps out of the Impala before the brake’s even on. He grabs his stuff from the trunk and makes his way inside without so much as a glance back at his brother.

He stops by the kitchen and grabs some food and a case of beer. He’s too on edge and he feels like shit and he wants to lock himself in his room so he doesn’t hurt anyone. 

A part of him remembers that he should be scared of himself, of hurting himself too.

He ignores it and locks the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Sam knocks. Once, twice, three times.

Dean doesn’t answer him, hoping he thinks that he’s fallen asleep and not just that he doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to see him. Doesn’t want to be treated like a child.

Eventually, the knocking stops. Dean lets out a breath and guzzles his fourth beer. 

He  _aches_. 

His hands shake with the desire to do something, to destroy something. To rip something apart piece by piece until it’s no longer recognizable. 

The thought of blood covered hands makes his gut ache in longing and nausea, not sure which one is going to win out tonight. 

Everything is red. 

It’s red and it’s loud, it’s  _so loud_. There’s a buzzing, a humming at the base of his skull, that makes him want to scream. He knows this feeling, he remembers this feeling, and he’s scared. He’s terrified.

A thought occurs to him - if he had someone, if he had what he wanted, they would leave him. If they saw him like this, pale and sweating with the effort it’s taking not to run out of the room and kill something, they would leave him. And Dean would offer them the car keys so they could get the hell out of dodge fast enough. 

He laughs and it hurts, hurts in more ways than it should. 

Feelings. He wants to experience feelings.  _People_. Things. 

 _God_ , he’s such an idiot.

“Cas,” he croaks out, his voice sounding and feeling like he’s been gargling broken glass. He lets out a ragged breath, squeezes his eyes close and feels the glass bottle in his hands creak with the effort of not breaking from the pressure. He knows the feeling. 

“I know... you can’t hear me. Probably. Maybe... I don’t - I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything anymore, really.” 

Dean lets his head fall back against the ledge of the wall, rests it against a gun, and huffs a bitter laugh, “I just... fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know, Cas. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. It’s fucked up. Everything. Everything’s all -” 

He rubs a free hand over his face as he takes a second to breathe through the new wave of the Mark throbbing angrily.

It doesn’t pass when it should.

“I’m losing it. I’m losing. And I...” He lets out another laugh, resists the urge to cry or scream, “Shit, man, I’m terrified. I just... I went to confession today. It was for a case but it - I was - I was honest. I think.” 

The anger starts to dissipate just a little, just enough to make it easier to think in another color for a moment.

“I’m not ready to die. I don’t want to. I’ve got... I’ve got things. I guess... maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Shit, I  _know_  I’m kidding myself with this. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror sometimes. I’m surprised every time I see my fucking face and I just...” 

He laughs and opens his eyes a little as he tosses the beer bottle onto a pillow, growling when it doesn’t shatter, “I’m fucked. I’m fucked. I’m fucked up. I’m... I’m broken. Poison. Whatever, I - I can’t - I can’t drag someone into this. Into me. Into my mess. It’s not... it’s not fair.” 

Dean grabs another bottle and pops it without a second thought before guzzling most of it in one go. 

“But I’m so fucking... I’m selfish. I am. Dad would kill me but fuck it, I am. I want to be happy. I want that stupid apple pie life where someone makes dinner and tells me that they love me. I want to feel like a real person for once in my god damn life. I want to love someone the way they deserve. I’m tired of being broken, Cas. I’m... fuck, I’m done.” 

The Mark feels like it’s stabbing him and he lets out a sharp breath, squeezes his eyes closed and grips the throbbing scar with his other hand. 

He keeps talking through it.

“There’s someone. They’re... an asshole. And they fuck up a lot but they’ve got... jesus, they’ve got the biggest heart.” 

He groans quietly and drops the beer on his bed, folding in on himself as visions of a room with bloody walls and scattered corpses flash behind his eyelids. 

“And I want that. I want that. I want  _them_. And I’m so fucking scared.” 

It takes a few minutes for this wave to pass but he still feels so totally on edge when it’s over that he stays curled up. 

“I’ve hurt them... I - Cain said... and I can’t hurt you, Cas. I... I can’t. But I would. If I let myself...” He sighs and rolls onto his side, tries to breathe a little more evenly.

“I’m tired of you getting hurt. I don’t want to be the one who does it this time.” 

Part of him hopes that his phone will ring or Cas will miraculously show up next to him in bed and pull him close and tell him that he’s not going to leave.

Nothing happens.

Dean rolls over and hides his face in the comforter, sighing, “I am trying...  _god_ , I’m trying so hard to fight it. I’m not ready to give up but, I just... I wish - I wish you were here. I wish you knew.” 

 _I wish you knew that I love you back_. 

 

* * *

 

Dean goes quiet after that. 

Cas has been frozen in place at the gas station pump since he heard something and realized what it was.

It’s been so long since he heard a prayer, he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. What Dean sounded like when he prayed. 

He can feel the longing, the loneliness, the sincerity. He can feel echoes of the Mark and it makes him grip the car frame so tight that his knuckles turn white as a sheet.

His knees are weak and huh, that’s new, his heart is beating so loudly it’s the only sound in his ears. 

He’s never been so angry that his wings no longer work.

A truck horn blares past on the highway behind him and it seems to snap him out of his reverie. His head snaps up and he catches the gas station attendant staring at him.

He offers a small, shaky smile, and pays before getting into the car. The steering wheel feels nice against his forehead as he tries to collect his thoughts.

He wants.  _God_ , he wants. 

He wants to be at home, in the bunker. He wants to hug Dean and tell him it’ll be okay even though they both know it might not be. He wants to pretend that nothing’s wrong and that they’re fine and nobody’s dying. He  _wants_. 

Cas starts up the car reluctantly and gets back on the highway, driving to his next destination.

He drives for hours. Further than he needs to, and pulls into a motel parking lot.

He sits for ten, fifteen minutes, and he can’t keep his eyes off of the dash.

His phone buzzes in his pocket with the calendar reminder he’d set up for... something. He can’t remember what. It’s 4am and his thoughts are preoccupied. 

Castiel pulls the phone out and dismisses the reminder before pulling up the texts. A blank text to Dean, specifically. 

> I know. Cas  
>  And I believe in you. Cas

He huffs a laugh when he realizes how much his hands are shaking. 

> I want that, too. Cas
> 
>  

* * *

 

_**I stand by you, walk through the fire** _  
_**Your love is my scripture** _  
_**Let me into your encryption** _

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at bibrotears.


End file.
